


Crushed Rubies

by Sugar_and_Salt



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Death, Humiliation, Language, M/M, MAMA Powers, Mild Gore, Slavery, alternative universe, dubcon, it's just mentioned though, jongdae is messed up and so is junmyeon, obsession jongdae, sexual and psychological abuse if you squint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-25
Updated: 2020-04-25
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:55:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23475823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sugar_and_Salt/pseuds/Sugar_and_Salt
Summary: If Chen were a shepherd, Xiumin would be his newly acquired, black sheep.But there is more to this black sheep and maybe even more to Chen himself...
Relationships: Kim Jongdae | Chen/Kim Minseok | Xiumin
Comments: 18
Kudos: 44
Collections: SnowSpark Fest Round One





	Crushed Rubies

**Author's Note:**

> [selfprompt]
> 
> dear mods,  
> i can't thank you guys enough for putting up with me as well as making this event such a pleasant one to participate in. you guys rock.
> 
> big shoutout to my beta - you're the best person in the world.

  
  


Chen licked his lips. They were dry and split, but the metallic taste of blood was pleasant on his tongue. Gently scraping his teeth over it, he enjoyed the subtle sting as he looked over his pets, enjoying the way they fearfully followed the movement. Just the new ones, of course. The battered, familiar faces all avoided his gaze.

Not that Chen had ever punished his pets for looking at him. Or for being unable to. He had seen people punish others for looking them in the eye. They'd usually label it an act of defiance. He knew that deep down, however, these people usually felt _guilt_. Guilt and shame, and the nagging reminder that they knew they were in wrong.

Chen didn't give a shit about right and wrong though.

And he'd never felt guilty for doing what he did.

Not even once.

"I heard there have been attempts to leave the vicinity."

His voice was quiet, smooth and almost soothing as it covered the grainy fear tainting the air. The hallway was wide, with ancient figures carved into stone looking down at them from the ceilings far, far above them. Again, some people preferred their pets to associate certain rooms with punishment. And again, Chen did not need to rely on any of that. He'd punish them wherever and whenever, spectators or none.

"I must have been too gentle with you over the past weeks."

Leisurely thumbing the special ring around his left middle finger - the one made of pure water - he walked up and down the row of miserable creatures. He could feel their pathetic auras flicker, could feel their every emotion. It felt like a tempting little itch, like a cut begging to be licked over and silenced.

But it wasn't Chen's job to silence them or else none of them would be wasting air right now.

No, his job was to keep them in line. Keep them alive to be murdered by the _right_ person - the one who shared their face, who shared their abilities.

Just how Chen had once done it - though his mirror had certainly not been served to him on a silver platter. He'd had to fight for him back then. Chen liked to think that was the reason why the energy sizzling right under his skin was on an entirely different level compared to these pathetic beings. That the exhilarating feeling of being pushed to his limit, only to come out on top had burnt itself into his veins forever.

Something in him had certainly changed when the blood of the human sharing his face had soaked his hands.

But no matter how long he'd reminisce or idly try to make his pets imitate the screams he'd heard back then, the feeling was simply not the same. It never was.

Something cracked, a fragile bubble bursting, and when Chen snapped out of his reverie, it was to the sight of a lifeless body crumpled by his feet.

He suppressed a sigh.

Junmyeon would never let him hear the end of this.

* * *

The dark mark on his chest was burning where Junmyeon had toyed with his blood. It always felt like a parasite moving beneath your skin. It truly was weird more so than painful, but the bruises sure served as a reminder that it could be much more painful if he repeated his mistakes. He could also move the torture to much more unpleasant spots.

As of now, it merely felt foreign and burnt faintly. An impressive feat, considering that Chen was currently asleep. He was vaguely aware of it, because the face beneath his was more than familiar.

Running a hand through his sweat-plastered bangs, he took a moment to take in a sight so rare it was now confined to his memories. Seeing his own face twisted in raw fear.

He could remember it so clearly. He remembered the grey sky, the sharp smell of ozone lingering in the air, the heat of the body under him, the feeling of clammy skin under his fingertips. He also remembered the deserted square with only a single leftover human, crumpled and faintly moaning in agony and even the throbbing pain in his calf and side, where his mirror had managed to burn his flesh with the electricity running through him.

Chen's electricity.

 _His_.

The moment his hand tore through the other's chest, burning its way through skin and flesh and the oh so fragile, squishy heart... everything had turned hot white after that, a feeling so far beyond any pain or pleasure imaginable that even in his dream, Chen had a hard time recreating it. The adrenaline rush of winning over your mirror, the overwhelming feeling of consuming their soul and with it, their powers, was indescribable.

The shattered pieces of yet another host had been reunited.

And Chen had come out on top.

He was complete at last.  
  


* * *

"You probably remember him, don't you?"

He did.

The creature before him looked different, but it was unmistakably Xiumin.

Junmyeon crossed his arms and even cocked his head as he regarded him. There was nothing friendly or human about the gesture but Chen had no eyes for him, anyway.

"What happened?" he asked curtly, unable to tear his gaze away from the person he used to fuck on an irregular basis. That really was the nicest thing Chen could think of when it came to Xiumin, and it certainly wasn't the first thing that cameto mind.

Right now, however, the sight of the _thing_ before him instilled him with an odd sense of wariness. Was this what fear felt like? Like a nauseous tingle in your guts?

"He found his mirror," Junmyeon drawled out thoughtfully, tapping his fingers against the exquisite fabric of his suit. "Following the witness reports, he managed to kill him. Apparently, things went to hell after that. And now he looks like _this_ ," he ended, half-heartedly flicking the creature's shoulder.

Chen had met Xiumin as a sharp-tongued, arrogant bastard with a grasp on the cold. It was an inferior power at best. Chen had joked that the ice had him fucked up right from the start, leaving him with his silvery hair and unnaturally bright eyes that he so loved to rim with dark kohl. Now, his hair was of an inky black, and what used to be a gorgeous tan even against the plane of Chen's own, bronzed skin, was now gone in favour of pure, snowy white. But none of that was the reason Chen refused to refer to him as human in his head. He'd seen plenty of dead bodies in his life, so saying that he looked dead would not be perfectly accurate, but the look in his eyes was about as vacant as those of people broken down and on the verge of ending it. There was something completely detached about the usually so arrogant, rage-filled features that Chen couldn't help wondering whether his mirror had been the one to kill him instead. He just looked so different. Another thing that stood out was the utter void replacing the sharp scent of snow filling the air wherever he set foot. For a moment, his entire body seemed to flicker under Chen's scrutiny.

"Fucking hell," he muttered, feeling a scorching cocktail of wariness, disgust and intrigue. "Did he lose his power instead of taking his mirror's?" he guessed. "Or did they end up killing themselves at the same time?"

"Not as far as I know," Junmyeon shrugged. "But it's anyone's guess at this point. Either way, I'll put him in your... _care_. For now."

Verbal protest may not be an option, but Chen was bold enough to grimace, half-heartedly nudging the other with his foot.

"What, you think anyone's gonna pay for him-" he began, the question dying in his throat when the other looked up all of a sudden, meeting his eyes, steady and void of any emotion. They were of an entirely unnatural, deep red, and as soon as their eyes met, something _twinged_ in him. His organs, his head, his vision - _everything_ twinged, sharp and precise like a needle driving into skin. The sensation was gone as fast as it had come, however.

"Interesting," Junmyeon hummed. "So he does react to you. Does he take your orders?"

Chen bit back on his instinct to ask him to just kill himself.

"Turn around," he said instead, feigning disinterest. Xiumin turned his back to them. Anticipation fluttered in Chen's stomach red, hot and itchy like the first rush of blood splashing over his fingers.

"Walk to the painting."

Xiumin's steps were leisurely paced, but certain.

"And now come back."

By the time he stood before him again, Chen's dried up lips were straining from how wide he was grinning.

"What, you really missed being tossed around that much?"

Xiumin only looked at him, and there was something in his gaze that Chen didn't like. It had to be the absence of anger or even fear. There was simply nothing, and yet... more than he had ever seen in anyone's eyes. The longer he looked, the more they seemed to suck him in-

"Well, great," Junmyeon smiled. "You got yourself your own little homunculus now. Have fun. But be careful - pretty sure he still has powers."

Chen absently snorted, eyes flitting between Xiumin's and Junmyeon's retreating form.

"Oh, and Chen?"

He finally tore his gaze away. Even from afar, he could feel the atmosphere change, could feel it in the way his blood moved, the way the water ring painfully constricted around his finger.

"You know I hold you in high regard," Junmyeon began, voice open and friendly, while at the same time sharper than a shard of glass, "but this guy is one of a kind. If you kill him, you'll find yourself joining him in hell. Got that?"

Chen didn't huff but he didn't cower either. Death threats were wasted on someone like him.

"Sure," he only offered. He hadn't gotten into his position for nothing, and his track record was clean enough for Junmyeon to not mind his attitude. Besides, if Junmyeon wanted him dead, he'd die either way. Though deep down, Chen was convinced that he'd be able to take Junmyeon with him. It was something he occasionally liked to fantasize about.

As of now, however, he had no particular urge to die. So he simply turned back to the being before him. The one that had once been Xiumin.

He considered spitting in his face, just for the satisfaction of the pesky bitch taking it with no complaint. After a moment of consideration, however, he decided on a different approach and cupped the side of the other's face with his right hand. His skin was soft under his calloused palm, and Chen could see his rings digging into the supple flesh of his cheek.

"You poor, poor thing," he whispered mockingly, staring into the red eyes that simply held his gaze. "Who's the whore now, hm? Though apparently, you didn't even qualify for that... I see he pierced you like a cow."

The watery earrings on his left ear felt familiar under his fingers - liquid, yet solid, refusing to melt into any other form.

Xiumin remained unresponsive.

The grin on Chen's face widened.

"Who would have thought I’d get to see this day? Are you regretting the way you used to talk to me now?" he asked, exaggerating both his tone and expression, imitating the way people talked to children. "What is that? Not yet? Well, we can certainly change that."

* * *

The first time Chen had met Xiumin, they'd almost killed each other.

Xiumin had been a regular at Junmyeon's mansion - a strawman sent by companies to negotiate in the naive assumption that someone of his meagre power would not be slaughtered straight away. Junmyeon, who may not have a heart, but definitely a functioning brain, did nothing to correct their assumptions and accepted Xiumin as a middle man.

Chen honestly couldn't remember the reason why they started talking back then. Even the general content of their conversation was a blurry memory at best. All he could remember was Xiumin having the audacity to call him pathetic, and proudly stating that he didn't give a shit about killing his mirror image.

"I'm powerful enough as it is," he'd stated back then, and Chen had laughed right in his face. How many venomous words were spat, or which statement in particular had made them snap and get physical? He didn't remember. All he could recall was the way Junmyeon had broken them up not too long after with nothing but a wave of his hand, looking furious.

They made sure not to try and murder each other after that, but their conversations were never any less scalding.

"You're like a dog," Xiumin used to say, always looking at him like he was less than that.

"A dog that will fry you alive with a look after I killed my mirror," Chen had countered once.

"Sure, Junmyeon might find your mirror," Xiumin admitted, crossing his arms. "But at what cost? How exactly are you becoming more powerful if you're enslaved forever? You're already wearing his collar, though, so why am I even wasting my time on you?"

"It is not a collar," Chen slowly gritted through his teeth, but it only caused a look of faux realization to spread on the other's face.

" _Right_ ," he breathed out, looking down at his hand. "It's a ring instead. What's it like, being someone's whore?"

Chen remembered that conversation. He also remembered pushing him up against a wall after that, spurred on by anger.

"Why don't _you_ tell me?" he'd hissed.

That had been their first time, and it was every bit as violent and rough as every time after that. Whenever they clashed, they'd end up littered in scraps and bruises, but it only ever seemed to add fuel to their petty conflict.

Everything about Xiumin was like an ugly itch that Chen simply yearned to scratch until it hurt, something to push until it broke, something to triumph over; and the look in the other's eyes was enough to confirm that the feeling was mutual.

And like that, their violently satisfying encounters kept happening.

Until Xiumin vanished one day, that is.

* * *

He could feel Xiumin's eyes boring holes into the back of his head. It was a sensation so grating that Chen simply couldn't get used to it. No matter where he went or what he did, Xiumin would follow him like a shadow, with the posture and silence reminding him of a maid. At this point, Chen was convinced that there had to be a spark of the old Xiumin left, and that somehow, he was looking at him like that on purpose. Never before had a defiant look by one of his pets bothered him, but for some reason, Xiumin's neutral gaze made Chen want to strangle him. Or at the very least force his head down. But that would feel like defeat.

Chen inhaled, subtle, but deep.

He would not let this crippled being drive him over the edge. Xiumin was _nothing_. All he could do was look at him and follow simple orders. Though to make matters worse, he didn't even follow _every_ order. He'd carry things, retrieve objects, sit down or prepare food, and he'd always be back within a few minutes. When sheer pettiness had Chen order him to crawl after him on all fours, however, the other simply stared at him. When he'd ordered him to smash in the head of one of his useless pets on an angry whim, Xiumin had remained unmoving. He knew the other was understanding him, could see it in the way his eyes would flicker to the shivering people on the ground, and back up at him.

Some part of this bastard _heard_ him, but chose to ignore his orders, and no minor beating would get him to do it.

Slowly, but surely, he realized that he'd never wanted to hurt anyone like he wanted to hurt this mocking, haunting shadow of a person. He may hurt people on a daily basis, and he liked to think that he enjoyed it, but Xiumin made him realize that he didn’t care much about actually inflicting pain. He simply did it. Xiumin, however, he was yearning to see in _pain_. And the simple fact that he wasn’t allowed to cause him serious injury or end his life was sheer agony.

Maybe Junmyeon had done this on purpose. Maybe this was some sort of cruel, long term punishment for one of his past mishaps. Chen wouldn’t even be surprised if he’d done it to Xiumin on purpose. Junmyeon could be like that.

How long had Xiumin been following him around already? He wasn’t counting the days, could only measure the rage building up in him.

“Great job bastard, you can leave me alone now,” he stated, two feet from his room. He’d started to call him all sorts of names, well-aware that it was a pathetic output for his anger. As always, Xiumin only blinked, waiting for him to enter his rooms, so he could follow. So he could sit on the floor by the door, waiting, _watching_ until Chen fell asleep.

He hadn’t been able to sleep properly since then, and that, as well, was grating on his nerves. He knew Xiumin slept, as well, had caught him once, when he awoke at night, but paranoia was slowly gnawing away on the remaining scraps of his sanity. How could he be so sure the creep wouldn’t attempt to murder him in his sleep?

“Sleep somewhere else,” Chen enunciated slowly, clearly, and angrily.

Xiumin’s gaze wandered lower, settling somewhere around Chen’s collarbones. Clearly, he was ignoring him.

“Fuck. I wish you’d just die already,” he grumbled, but of course, he received no response to that. Not even the tiniest bit of satisfaction.

In a fit of rage, he pushed the other, grabbing a fistful of clothes to slam him into the wall. Xiumin flinched, but only barely so. Not nearly enough.

And the close proximity gave Chen an entirely different idea.

“You know what?” he whispered lowly, leaning down as he steadied his other hand on the wall, caging the other in.

“I could fuck you.”

A small part of him had expected a minuscule reaction despite everything. Anger, fear, disgust… anything.

But Xiumin only looked at him.

“Would you like that?” Chen asked, low and taunting, pressing their lower bodies together in a rough, filthy grind. The sting of pleasure running through him felt like the first relief he’d felt ever since the other had been placed by his side. God, did he miss fucking someone.

“ _Right_ , you don’t care,” Jongdae breathed out, indulging himself in another grind, and another one, feeling the heat pool in the pit of his stomach as his heart rate spiked.

“I could fuck you to pieces, make you bleed and mess you up from inside... and you would just let me, wouldn’t you?”

It was the sole reason he hadn’t put the other in his place yet - if he accidentally fucked him up too badly, Junmyeon would make him pay.

Another grind revealed something that cut through the haze, however, and Chen paused, pressed against him. The other was hard.

Chen chuckled in disbelief, feeling heat in a way the previous, icy bastard had never allowed it.

“Shit. You really think I won’t do it, huh? You should know me better-”

His hand ran up the other’s body, dipping beneath the collar to grope his shoulders, the back of his neck, only to push him down.

“Go on then. Down,” he commanded, ugly desire pulsing through his veins. “And open up.”

It was a clear command, one that Xiumin was supposed to ignore so Chen could revel in the satisfaction of forcing him to his knees.

But the other melted immediately under the pressure, going to his knees willingly. Almost gracefully.

Aggravating.

“Suck.”

Red, deep eyes simply looked at him, and for a second, he thought the other wouldn’t do it. For a second, time stood still. But then he complied, reaching for his pants, and Chen let out the breath he’d been holding.

“Right here for every passerby to see, huh?” he rasped out. “Shit, maybe you’re good for something, after all.”

With a forceful grip, he tugged the other back up and into his room.

Honestly, Chen had assumed that fucking Xiumin would be like using a doll. Warm, slick, but ultimately unresponsive. Boring after one or two rounds.

Much to his surprise, however, the other was a far better lay than he’d ever been. There was no hissing, shoving and biting anymore, no curses spat at each other as they wrestled to be on top. This Xiumin followed his orders without a hitch, baring himself and keeping still even when his muscles were shaking from exhaustion, but he also _reacted_ to Chen’s touch, arching into it, twitching from pleasure or sighing voicelessly.

The other might stay mum, but finally, he could see his blank expression twist into something else as he toyed with him, fingered him torturously slowly and took him apart in a manner painful enough to steal away his breath.

“Told you - dead, you’d be a better fuck,” Chen grunted out between thrusts, feeling the rhythmic, addictive way the other was clenching around him. He reveled in the other’s hitching breath, looked down at the other’s flushed face, parted lips and into his dark, unreadable eyes, into the deep, bordeaux-colored starry ocean-

That Chen found himself unable to meet.

He swallowed and averted his gaze.

* * *

"Hey now, did you just fall asleep on me?"

He attempted to blink away exhaustion, forcing himself to stay awake. He was lying on his stomach, naked and sweaty, with a solid, equally sweaty body half-covering him.

"If I fell asleep now, I'd probably suffocate," he muttered into the plush blankets.

Xiumin huffed in amusement.

"You handled me on top of you just fine earlier. Why so dramatic?"

His limbs were heavy, but he turned around under the other's dead weight, anyway. Xiumin's voice sounded so different. So low, and yet incredibly light. Playful.

He wriggled his way out from under the other's body, settling on his side instead. With a chuckle, Xiumin let himself fall on his side as well, facing him. The entire room was cast in the dim, orange glow of the sun just having set. It dipped the other's usually pale complexion in a rich, warm tone, just shy of hiding the exertion dusting his cheeks. It also highlighted every mussed up strand of his dusty brown hair and made his eyes look like liquid amber.

The realization was so familiar, and yet so strangely _painful_ \- he had the most beautiful eyes he had ever seen.

Under his long gaze, Xiumin quirked his brows in question, a friendly smile tugging at his lips.

"Hm? What now?" he asked, voice nothing but a warm murmur, soft and cozy.

He parted his lips, gathering every shred of courage he could find in order to chase away his messy thoughts... but no words would come.

"I know I'm good in bed, but there's no need to be speechless," Xiumin chuckled benevolently, curling an arm around his waist to draw him close.

Frustrated by his own shortcomings, he dragged the other even closer, close enough to drag his lips over the salty skin on his nape, peppering lasting, soft kisses to every patch of skin he could reach without breaking the tight embrace. Only much later, when the sky had paled into a washed out blue, did he lean in close to whisper into his ear.

_"I love you."_

It was small, shy, determined, airy as a feather and heavy enough to make him feel it in his stomach.

He felt Xiumin chuckle, simultaneously tightening his grip on him in a reassuring manner.

The heavy feeling in his stomach dispersed into a thousand dizzying particles when Xiumin drew away just enough to brush their lips together, voice also dropping to a whisper.

"I love you, too."

He could feel his cheeks burning up, could feel the warmth spread through his veins, and for a moment, he was unable to breathe.

Inside his head, he was repeating it over and over again, saying it as loud as he'd meant to, loud and clear and desperate to be heard.

_I love you, Minseok.  
_

* * *

When Chen came to, it was to the heady smell of sex, a layer of dried sweat coating his skin, and an unfamiliar name on his tongue.

Minseok.

Minseok?

Who was that supposed to be?

It had obviously been a dream and yet something about it had felt _wrong_.

When he turned to the side with a tired groan, he came face to face with a peacefully sleeping Xiumin. Startled, he physically flinched away from him, almost hitting his head on the nightstand.

"Fuck," he whispered to himself, watching the other stir, only to turn towards him in his sleep. He was intuitively seeking... him. Chen.

Distraught and mildly disgusted, Chen slid out of bed and into the bathroom, where he grabbed the sink and simply stood there, waiting for his frantically beating heart to calm down.

His image in the mirror looked normal enough, aside from the ashen complexion.

With trembling fingers, he massaged his neck, trying to snap out of it. No wonder he got strange dreams after messing around with his ex-fuckbuddy. Maybe that freak had somehow sent him his memories. Though there was no way the Xiumin in his dreams was the one he had fucked in the past. Could have been his mirror. Who knew? The only thing Chen _did_ know for certain was that he never wanted to see anything like it ever again.

Which was the reason for him knocking at Junmyeon's office door not much later - with Xiumin in tow, of course.

"Get him away from me."

Junmyeon actually put down his pen at that, leaning back in his antique, priceless chair.

"Oh?" he asked, quirking a brow in mock interest. "I organize you a personal slave and you don't want him? Kind of ungrateful, don't you think? I thought I was doing you a favour."

"He annoys the fuck out of me," Chen spat, throwing a side glance at the mannequin-like servant next to him, who looked like last night had never even taken place. Junmyeon followed his gaze, looking mildly amused now.

"Is that so? How odd, considering how complacent he seems to be."

His gaze darkened after that, voice growing a little softer, almost velvety, as he gave Xiumin a thorough once over.

"Want me to break him in for you?"

Chen's jaw clenched at that, but he tried to keep the strain out of his voice.

"I'm good," he drawled, crossing his arms, "and perfectly capable of doing so myself."

"Oh? His eyes tell a different story," Junmyeon hummed. There was a feral quality to the smile he shot Chen after that.

"I was going to hold back until you got bored of him since I gifted him to you, you know? But if you're incapable of handling him, say the word. Just don't expect me to share him later on," he ended with a smile that didn't reach his eyes.

For a few, tense seconds, they stared at each other.

Maybe, if Chen had taken the time to look at Xiumin once more, he'd be annoyed enough to do just that. But he was looking at Junmyeon instead, at the obvious challenge in his eyes, the condescension and judgement.

Chen had seen him 'break people in' - since Junmyeon was in no way averse to having an audience - and he most certainly didn't feel inferior to him in that regard. Where Chen was brutal and like a hot iron scarring the skin of his victims, Junmyeon resembled a set of surgical blades. Junmyeon used sex to make people his, used sickeningly sweet words and well-placed discipline, liked to wrap people up in false trust only to cut them open where it hurt the most, cut them in a way where only he could offer the strings needed to keep them together after. Junmyeon was methodical, clinical in his approach. Chen wasn't all-too impressed with his methods - especially considering how, in a way, Junmyeon had gone through the routine with him, too, albeit in a rather harmless fashion.

Jongdae thought back to his last few victims, and to the way Junmyeon had once whispered into _his_ ear...

...and sheer spite had him turning around with clenched teeth, grabbing Xiumin by the arm to tug him along.

Whatever.

He just had to think of another way to get the little pest out of his hair.

The weeks after that, Chen made sure to keep Xiumin busy, coming up with one unnecessary errand after the other - anything to keep him out of his sight. Sadly, his attempts to keep him out of his bed weren't always that successful. He hated the days where temptation took over, but Xiumin was always there, always _willing_ , and with every passing day, the mere prospect of fucking one of his other pets instead grew more dissatisfying. He hadn't put much thought into it before, but he'd never been the type to fuck his pets. They were filthy, and unlike Junmyeon, he did not enjoy fucking something that was already dead inside. Sure, at first he thought humiliating Xiumin would be fun, but only because of their long, petty history. Even now he was pretty sure the only person more tempting to bed than his current slave would be the old Xiumin; the one who'd spit at him, who'd hiss and bite, and whose smooth moans ran deep enough to reverberate in Chen's guts.

The red-eyed Xiumin was nothing like him and yet he seemed to end up in his bed way more often than Chen would have liked. And his resolve was crumbling more and more each day. When Junmyeon left the mansion to him in order to take a business trip to China a month later, he'd barely left the grounds when Chen was already screwing Xiumin on his desk.

He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt so empowered, and it was definitely worth the side effects.

The side effects being the reoccurring, borderline lucid dreams following every night spent with Xiumin. Every single touch of the other's skin, he had to pay for as soon as he allowed himself to sleep. Every single night, he'd dream of being with the man named Minseok.

Minseok, with his easy smiles and confident touches. Minseok, who loved his powers, inferior as they were. Minseok, who opened himself up with no fear, and Chen... who did the same.

It disturbed him to the core, but there was a tiny, persistent voice sitting somewhere in the back of his mind, hidden under the heavy crust of dried blood Chen had spilled throughout his life. The tiny voice found it morbidly fascinating. It made him feel like a moth gravitating towards an open flame. And the irrational temptation to keep observing this foreign, unpredictable flame, the eagerness to keep cupping something that might one day burn his flesh down to the bone...

It _scared_ him.  
  


* * *

The world was a blur of muddy colors and dust, the scent of ozone so intense that it drove tears to his eyes. His back met the ground, ripping a painful groan out of him. Everything hurt. His muscles kept twitching, kept cramping up under the foreign assault. His side felt weird, like someone had ripped him open, and there was blood soaking through his clothes - it had to be blood. He also felt it ooze out of his cut up hands as he clenched them to fists, but before he could shift his weight to roll to the side, someone had bodily pinned him down. The grey, gloomy sky grew even darker as someone looked down at him, boldly placing his thighs on either side of him in an obscene way.

He tried to claw into the other's legs, to send every bit of static through him that he could muster, but he was too injured, too exhausted, and way too slow.

"Somewhat disappointing," a voice rasped out over him as he wrestled his hands over his head with ease. The tone was off, but the enunciation and lilt was jarringly familiar.

It was Chen himself.

Chen was looking down at him, disheveled, blood-stained, and grinning wildly.

"But don't worry. I'll make better use of our lightning - _my_ lightning."

There was a hand wandering down his throat but he couldn't feel it over the panic, couldn't feel it over the fear so intense he wanted to puke. Through his blurry vision, he threw one last look at the battered, injured person lying a few steps away.

"Run," he muttered.

There was an intense burning sensation in his chest but he refused to break eye contact, pouring everything he had into one last plea.

_"Run, Minseok!"  
_

* * *

  
  


"Minseok-"

Chen sat up abruptly, startled by the dim lights and the shadow moving away from his bedside. There was a glint of metal, and without thinking, he ducked to avoid the blade. In a flash, he'd grabbed the intruder and used his own weight to wrestle him to the ground next to his bed. Chen was no stranger to assassination attempts, and allowing the anger and adrenaline to pulse through his veins made it easy to pin down the intruder who turned out to be-

Xiumin.

"You?" Chen spat out, looking into the other's unusually defiant gaze. His distraction only lasted a second, but that was enough for the other to send a wave of painful cold through his thigh and side. Exploiting Chen's surprise, Xiumin toppled him over with shocking strength and precision. Throwing aboard every single thought not concerning the domination of his enemy, Chen fought back with a snarl. The other was fast and surprisingly strong, but he had nothing on Chen's experience at fighting dirty. He didn't know the cruel urge to win _no matter what_ , and that was the reason Chen ended up on top of him once more within seconds, the other's knife in hand, electricity thrumming through it as he aimed for his heart, as he caught his eyes one last time, saw them wide with fear-

\- and he stopped.

He just stopped.

Right on top of a shell-shocked Xiumin, one hand holding him down, the other still gripping the knife, hovering in mid air.

Just like that, Chen had stopped himself. For no reason.

As if the other's powers had frozen his body and mind alike.

He couldn't do it.

The realization hit him like a shard of ice, driving through everything he'd ever known, leaving a long crack ready to branch out. He couldn’t do it. 

Within mere seconds, Xiumin had reversed their positions, but Chen didn't counter him, didn't even attempt to defend himself, really, as he lay there like an idiot, looking up at Xiumin, who put the knife to his chest.

 _After all this_ , he thought, a surreal mix of resignation and hysteria.

 _After all this,_ **_this_ ** _is gonna be what kills me_.

He didn't close his eyes though, unable to tear his gaze away from the ocean of crushed rubies that seemed to hold him down so effortlessly.

The tip of the blade was sharp and cold enough to emit faint smoke. Chen could feel it sit on his chest, felt it tease through the thin layer of his sleeping shirt.

Xiumin stared down at him, both hands on the handle of the blade.

And he didn't move.

A part of Chen wanted to scoff, wanted to mock him for being every bit as weak as he'd assumed, but he was too lost in the other's eyes. They were full of intense, conflicting emotions that Chen had never seen in him and yet felt strangely familiar - probably because he'd seen them every single day. They had always been there, hiding under the seemingly blank surface, winding in the depths of the quiet, red sea, only bubbling to the surface to take Chen down with them for good.

And the hatred he saw in there was different from the one Xiumin had shown him.

Because this wasn't Xiumin.

"You're Minseok," he rasped out, using his presumably last breath to gain confirmation. To truly understand his downfall.

"You were there," he added, still trying to wrap his head around it. "At the square. I never noticed."

Xiumin - no, Minseok - didn't reply. His eyes were shimmering suspiciously, but he didn't let his guard down, gripping the blade's handle strongly enough to make the leather squeak in protest.

"I killed your lover, huh?" Chen asked, gauging the other's reaction, looking for a clue as to how he himself should feel about that. He could see Minseok tensing up even further, could tell that he had trouble keeping his breathing calm.

Chen grinned. It was small and half-hearted, and it didn't feel good. But it wasn't supposed to.

"And then you went after Xiumin," he exhaled, sounding surprisingly bitter, "Who never had any intention of finding you. Guess you're no better than me, are you?"

This provoked a reaction, and for a split second, Chen thought his life was over for good. But after piercing his skin only barely, Minseok stopped yet again, a frustrated, soundless groan leaving his lips. With one fluid movement, he drove the blade into the wooden floor next to them.

It wasn’t naivete that had Minseok relax on top of him but absolute confidence that Chen would not try to hurt him.

And he was right.

Chen watched the way Minseok reached up to brush his hair behind his ear, revealing the watery chains Junmyeon had put on him. With a calm, almost gentle touch, he froze them.

Just like that, they crumbled away under his fingertips.

Just like that, he had done something Chen would have never been able to pull off.

And just like that, Jongdae was hit by the realization that the person hovering over him was _much_ more powerful than he’d ever be. Which in turn meant that Xiumin, too, must have harboured much greater powers than he’d ever let on.

"I never meant to kill him," Minseok began, making a face at how raspy his unused voice sounded. "He was simply blocking my path to finding _you_."

His voice was the same one Chen had heard spitting insults at him in the past, and the same one he had heard in his dreams, whispering sweet nothings into his hair.

"Now you talk. Did he take your voice? Did he know?" Chen asked, but Minseok lightly shook his head.

"I let him. He knows nothing," he brushed him off, clearly uninterested in talking about Junmyeon. "And neither did my mirror. He was my only lead to you but we started fighting."

Minseok's voice grew faint, tinged with regret.

"I didn't stand a chance against him."

"But you're here," Chen argued, unable to follow along. "You're here, so you won, right?"

"How can you call it a win if someone's dying?" Minseok hissed. "You're sick. You disgust me. And I should have ended _your_ life."

His voice cracked, allowing sour weakness to take over.

"Jongdae would have wanted me to," he said quietly, as if he couldn't quite believe himself. "He never wanted his lightning to harm people. And I wanted to make sure of it but I only became a monster as well. Xiumin may have destroyed my body, but I destroyed his mind."

Chen only stared at him warily, waiting for everything to make sense.

"He tried to make me a part of him, but I just- refused. I was just so desperate, so furious, so-"

Minseok met his eyes again, a first tear rolling down his cheek.

"-I was so _sad_. And Xiumin's heart was so empty, compared to mine. I simply took over."

Chen blinked. He'd never heard of anything like it, but in a way, it made sense. One didn’t just take their mirror's powers, they also took their soul. It was almost a given that if you overpower your mirror physically, you'd do the same mentally. But apparently, Minseok's soul had come out on top. He'd dominated Xiumin inside his own head.

"Everything went wrong and I was so helpless in my entire existence," Minseok rambled on, fingers clawing into Chen's shirt, "but then Junmyeon took me in and I did everything I could to regain control. To get to you. And now I'm finally _here_ , but I- I just can't do it."

"Why not?" Chen asked quietly. Pensively. Almost gently. As if maybe, it would be alright. Meant to be, in a twisted way.

Minseok inhaled deeply, before meeting his eyes and turning into the Minseok from his dreams for just a moment.

"Because Jongdae is still in you."

Chen felt the twinge, the one he'd felt back when he had laid eyes on Minseok for the first time, but aside from a quiet gasp, his expression betrayed nothing.

"No, he's not."

"Yes, he is," Minseok said, barely above a whisper, cupping his cheek.

"I saw him. I saw him gently cupping my cheek, just like this. I saw him keep me busy, but making sure Junmyeon would not put his hands on me. I saw him make love to me over and over again."

He was leaning in, and Chen was convinced he was insane. They both were. They had to be.

"And I see him right now," Minseok whispered, brushing his lips against Chen's. The touch was so light he barely felt it, and yet it burnt through every fibre of his being. The way he responded was equally light, slow and careful. So very careful. Like Minseok was the most fragile thing in the world.

And only then did Chen truly realize that he'd _always_ touched Minseok like that. He'd thrown insults at him, had tried his utmost to hurt him with his words whenever he could, but he'd never put a finger on him. He hadn't just kept him alive - he'd kept him unharmed at all times.  
  
He'd slept with him on so many occasions, but unlike his previous partners, he hadn't put a single scratch on him, had _worshiped_ him, really. He'd been so wrapped up in his own destructive and venomous nature that he'd failed to realize that the reason he enjoyed being intimate with Minseok had nothing to do with the other doing his bidding. He'd enjoyed it because it had been genuine, because despite his hatred for Chen, Minseok was still in love with the soul he had consumed, whether he’d been aware of it or not. And Chen? Something inside _him_ had unconsciously responded in kind. Something inside him loved Minseok back.  
Everything about this felt unlike him and yet nothing short of natural. Cherishing the person above him came naturally to Chen, and the realization was equal parts scary and freeing.

Somewhere inside him was another’s soul.  
And the moment their eyes had met back then, the spark had been reignited.

When Minseok broke the kiss, there were tears on Chen's cheeks. Minseok's, but also his own.

Despite that, Minseok smiled and ran his hand through Chen’s hair.

"See? There you are. You two are one now."

One. Complete.

Chen had been so sure he'd reached completion already, but...

Minseok took his hand and raised it to his lips, kissing the ring that had once been the seal of Chen's fate.

"I missed you, Jongdae," Minseok whispered as the frozen ring cracked into a dozen tiny pieces.

The Minseok in his dreams had always looked harmless, but never weak. He'd always radiated a strange amount of confidence, certainty, and trust. Trust in Jongdae.

But also trust in Chen. Trust in Chen not to rip him apart.

Foolish, right?

And yet Chen didn't lift a single finger against him. Not against the one person who seemed to harbour all the answers to questions he had buried so long ago.

He only sat up, cupping Minseok's face this time, slow and unsure.

Maybe, if he looked him in the eyes for long enough, he, too, could see Xiumin somewhere in there.

And maybe one day, the shattered, broken pieces which he now called his soul would be complete enough for Xiumin to look back at him.

**Author's Note:**

> ...you may ask yourself "why didn't you name junmyeon suho? you saying he's already evil or what?? do you hate him or something?" but that's not it at all! to me, suho chose to keep the name of his gentle mirror image on purpose, cause idk. it felt right.
> 
> anyway, thank you very much for reading! <3


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